Jeans
by daisygirl101
Summary: Those stupid jeans. They only mesmerized him and distracted her worse then ever before. But neither of them complained. Ever.
1. Chapter 1

Just a quick little twoshot drabble thing I thought up after some events recently :) I haven't written any Joanlock in a while, so ta-dah!

Elementary © CBS

* * *

"Watson! Let's go!" Sherlock yelled up the stairs. After much thumping and swearing, Joan came dashing down the stairs in a t-shirt and some jeans.

But not just any jeans.

_Those_ jeans.

"You're wearing jeans? Outside this building? Good lord Watson, I never thought you'd realize that there's no need to dress so formally every time you step foot outside this brownstone," he explained as she passed him by.

"Well maybe if someone did the laundry like they were asked to several times, I wouldn't have to look like this on your stupid errands," she snapped back. Sherlock gave a frustrated sigh. Of course he didn't do the bloody laundry for a reason.

"You know my agreement Watson. I am to clean out the fridge once a month. That's my job, and I am always so spot on with it." She rolled her eyes and walked out the door as he watched her walk in those jeans.

They were simple jeans, a lighter wash and pockets on both the front and the back. They flourished out at the bottom, giving her almost a bellbottom jean look. Oh but they hugged her in all the right ways. They weren't skin tight, but they defined her hourglass figure quite beautifully, framing her delicate hips perfectly. They made her ass look amazing, and they showed the strength of her legs while keeping her steps graceful and inviting. He took in every curve, every detail, of those jeans.

Arm in arm, they walked downtown. She took pride in every step she walked. Her coat didn't cover the butt of her jeans; it in fact stopped right at the waistband of them. It revealed to him her two simple back pockets, both completely empty save for some cash. He made a mental note to try and find a reason to have his hands in her pockets later.

They continued on shopping for a few more hours. Sherlock always made sure that their list consisted of things either adorning the very top shelf or one on the bottom. He would watch her bend in those jeans or reach up and stretch them out. He just wanted to hook his fingers in her belt loops and hold her hostage by it. He suspected that she was clueless of his observations, since she was too distracted with their so-called 'errands' to really notice.

They chose to take a cab home instead of walk. Sherlock watched her bend again and get into the cab. The way her jeans almost became part of her was most fascinating. They moved with her, bending as she pleased and fitting her figure perfectly. He got in after her and sat down, giving the driver an address. Without delay, they were off and home in no time. Sherlock grabbed some of the bags and got out, turning and offering her a helping hand. She took it with gratitude. She stopped for a minute. Her hands were now full of bags and her cash wasn't in any of those bags.

It was in her back pocket.

Sherlock smirked and walked over.

"Let me give you a hand there," he said, and fished into her back pocket of her jeans. She didn't say anything; she just waited patiently until he found the cash. He paid the cabbie and closed the door. They walked up the brownstone steps and into their small home.

"Sherlock I need you to do the laundry," Joan said before hanging her coat. He didn't reply at first. "Sherlock. Laundry. Now." And with that she walked off into the living room to put her bags down.

He watched her go in her jeans and smirked. He could make time for one load of laundry: the denim load.


	2. Chapter 2

Here's the second part~

Elementary © CBS

* * *

She narrowed her eyes at him from across the room. He walked over to the door and put his coat on before going for his scarf. He was dressed in an old t-shirt- that probably hadn't been washed in a while- and some of his somewhat nice dress shoes. But what caught Joan's eye were the jeans he had on. They were old and worn, and the cuffs at the bottom of them had holes in them. But she loved everything about them. She loved the brass button on the front, the color of them, the way they made him look so comfortable and so relaxed.

"Watson. Get ready. Don't I have to go suffer through another one of your meetings?" For a second, she took her eyes away from the jeans and rolled them. She knew he enjoyed the support group meetings but would never admit it.

"Stop complaining Sherlock. I know you enjoy them or you wouldn't be so keen to get going."

"Well I know that I have to keep you happy in order to keep this house clean. So, without further adieu," he stopped and opened the door, gesturing to the outside world. She sighed, snatched up her purse, and walked into the cold.

Watson couldn't keep her eyes off of those jeans as they waited by the curb for a taxi. They were a darker wash, and were lose around his calves, but tight around his waist and thighs. They revealed his strength to her, almost outlining his muscles. She amused the idea of how he could be so comfortable leaving the house in those worn things. But she didn't question it, oh no. She only took advantage of his decision.

They climbed into the cab together and passed an address off to the driver. The cabbie nodded and sped off while Joan went back to those damn jeans he had on. She observed the seam that ran down the side of his leg, fighting back the desire to see how the material felt. Was it rough? Soft like cotton? She would kill to know.

The two of them got out of the cab and walked to the building doors. Sherlock opened the door for her and let her in, and she nodded a thanks. They took their usual seats and sat down.

The various victims continued on with their stories. Usually Joan was captivated, as if looking away or failing to listen for just a second was a sin. But today, things were different. She had a rather powerful distraction sitting next to her. She bit her lip and she counted the number of belt loops visible and the number of pockets she could find without being overly suspicious. Joan tried to determine the material they were made of by the way they looked. Cotton was her best guess as of now, but when she did the laundry again she decided she'd find out for herself.

Their meeting ended much too quickly for Watson's taste. She wanted more time to memorize the details of his jeans. Their ride home was just as quiet as the one over, only Joan felt different. She felt him smirking at her when she wasn't looking, as if he knew some dirty little secret that she didn't. She feared the worst and thought she'd been caught, but she shook that off when she remembered how he liked to put himself in trances or sleep with his eyes open during the meetings.

Watson unlocked the brownstone and let the two of them inside. She hung her coat and her purse up on the hooks on the wall, and continued on toward the staircase to her room until Sherlock's voice stopped her.

"Watson." She froze. Here it comes. She's been caught. "I think I just solved our latest case." He went storming off into their living room as she breathed a sigh of relief. She kept walking. "Oh, and would you mind doing the laundry? I would prefer these jeans get washed. Besides, I have a rather good feeling you fancy them," he said. She whipped her head around to see him leaning on the doorframe of their living room, one foot flat on the floor, the other pressed against the doorframe. As she caught his eyes, which shined with mischievousness, he wore a proud, yet very classic, Sherlock Holmes kind of smirk.

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Just some Joanlock drabble to satisfy your cravings (:


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